The Campaign Man
by QueenY C
Summary: Kurt Hummel is 25 and unemployed despite his big city dreams. Blaine Anderson is 30 and on the road to being the youngest  and most controversial  senator in history. Together, they are about to defy all the odds.
1. Chapter 1

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God and we are all worms. _

_A/N: So, I've sort of wanted to write a Glee fanfic for the past several months and I always knew it was going to be about Kurt and Blaine (if other things happen on that show I'm only peripherally aware of them) but I'm just SO happy with the cannon version of their beautiful story there is literally no room for me to write anything. So this AU popped into my head. Most of the general story line is cannon except that Blaine and Kurt never met in high school and Kurt never transfered to Dalton. _

**Chapter One: By With A Little Help**

Kurt picked up his phone as the strains of 'For Good' echoed in his sparsely decorated living room and answered with a roll of his eyes. "Rachel, I love you, but if you're calling to ask me to run lines again, I'm going to be forced to—"

"Kurt," Rachel cut him off with high-pitched enthusiasm.

Kurt pulled the phone quickly away from his ear and rubbed at it before hitting the volume button a few times and replacing it. It was a mark of how far their friendship had come in the past seven years that he didn't choose to comment on or hang up at her squealing.

"Who is your best friend who will always, _always_ be looking out for you, hmmm?" Rachel continued, her voice thankfully dropping an octave so that Kurt's brain didn't feel like it was ringing.

"I assume since you're calling, the answer is 'you.'"

"That's right, it's me," Rachel enthused, completely ignoring Kurt's dripping sarcasm. "So, listen, I was having lunch at that new place _The Bistro _with some of the girls from the show. That place is beautiful, by the way, a little presumptuous but definitely charming. Their vegan selection wasn't ideal, but honestly I was just happy to have a selection at all. It's so hard to find healthy, environment-conscious options, even in Manhattan and—"

"Rach," Kurt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Will we be arriving at a point anytime soon?"

"Oh yes, well you'll never believe who happened to be sitting at the table right next to us?"

"Barbara," Kurt asked, unable to entirely keep the bitterness from his voice. Honestly, Rachel had all the luck.

"Don't I wish," Rachel sighed. "No, Blaine Anderson."

"The senator?"

"Well, not yet, but yes, essentially. And this is where it get's really good. He was having a rather heated conversation with two men about his campaign manager getting caught embezzling funds and how he needed to hire someone trustworthy and efficient as soon as humanly possible."

"Yes, Rach, even those of us who are woefully unemployed pick up newspapers on occasion," Kurt grimaced. He'd read all about the disastrous scandal last month as he surfed the paper for 'help wanted' ads. Apparently the embezzling had brought Anderson himself into investigation but despite the slur campaign his opponent had launched in the heat of the whole fiasco no charges had been placed and he'd resolutely refused to pull from the race. It had seriously hurt his numbers though, Kurt was sure, and elections were only eight months away now.

"Right," Rachel said and Kurt could actually feel her nod through the phone. "Well, I figured you were probably keeping an eye on him, given his platform. My Dads have been watching him too and they don't even live in New York."

"Fight the power and all that," Kurt intoned.

Rachel laughed. "Right. Anyway, the point of all this is that after lunch I approached Mr. Anderson and told him that I had a friend who was an absolute magician as an event organizer and that if anyone could bring his campaign together by elections it would be him."

"Oh Rachel," Kurt gasped, "You didn't!"

"I gave him your number, Kurt. Expect a call on Monday."

"Rachel, I love you, but I don't know the first thing about campaign management," Kurt hissed, flying off of his sofa for the first time in the conversation and carding a hand through his hair in dismay. "What were you thinking?"

"Kurt, you once planned an entire wedding, a _beautiful_ one by the way, in a week! During school!"

"Slightly different ramifications if things go wrong, Rach!"

"I have faith in you. You can totally do this Kurt. You were born to plan other people's lives," she teased lightly and Kurt couldn't help but smile a little at that at least. "Do a little studying and just go for it. You're gonna be great Kurt and you're wasting a heap of talent just sitting in that apartment feeling sorry for yourself because you didn't walk out of design school with a 24-story office and a contract in Paris."

"Thanks, Mom," Kurt grumbled.

"Come on, Kurt. What's the worst that could happen?"

_I am publicly humiliated or, _worse_, I cause Blaine Anderson, the Gay Poster Boy Future Senator, to be publicly humiliated._

"Yeah, I guess," Kurt answered instead. He sighed. "Thanks, Rach, for thinking of me."

"Of course," Rachel said, her voice going a little softer. Kurt really had to admire how different she was from the bossy, selfish girl she'd been in high school. "You're my friend, Kurt. I want the best for you."

"Breakfast at Tiffany's as usual tomorrow morning?"

"Bring some notes on Anderson and we'll get you prepped for an interview."

Kurt laughed. "Love you, Rach."

"Love you too, Kurt. Bye!"

After he hung up the phone, Kurt simply stared at it for several moments trying to wrap his head around the unexpected circumstances of his potential employment. Then he drew his laptop onto his knees and, pulling up Google, typed two words that might alter his future.

_Blaine Anderson._


	2. Chapter 2

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God and we are all worms. _

**Chapter Two: Welcome Aboard**

If someone had told a young Blaine Anderson that he would one day be honest-to-God worried about his political campaign for senate, he would've assumed you had him confused with his father.

His father the lawyer.

His father the straight, no-nonsense, "image matters" Anderson.

Blaine's passion was music and his life was all about finding the melodies in the world.

But all of that changed when he turned fourteen and came out to his parents. It changed when he was bullied out of his old school for being different. It changed when he lost a very dear friend to close-minded bigotry. It changed as he sat in his college dorm room in Harvard and watched with bated breath as gay marriage was legalized in New York. It changed when he realized that what he really wanted to do with his life was make a difference.

So, yeah, maybe politics weren'this first love. Maybe his teenage self was dying a little on the inside every time Blaine threw on a three-piece and stepped in front of podium and gave a speech instead of a solo. But 30-year-old Blaine could only take notice of all those people who thanked him, every day, for being their voice.

And that was why he really needed to get his campaign back on track.

"I still think this is a bad idea, Blaine," His oldest high school friend, Wesley Chang, said as he perched on the corner of Blaine's desk and fiddled with a photo of Blaine and his older sister at her wedding.

"Wes, he sounded perfectly friendly over the phone," Blaine argued, pulling his reading glasses down the bridge of his nose to level his friend with a stare.

"Yeah, well, Daniel didn't exactly seem evil when you hired him to manage you."

"Ouch, Wes, low blow," Blaine frowned. It wasn't really in his nature to hate, but if there was one person in the world he was reserving that for it had to be Daniel Brickman, his former campaign manager. The man had set him back to square one less than a year before elections. More importantly, Daniel had been a friend of his since law school.

"Sorry," Wes grimaced knowing he'd touched a sore spot. "I just want you to be careful, Blaine. You're too quick to trust people—"

"Not anymore."

"And we know next to nothing about this kid you're interviewing. He's a nobody. And he's young. I just don't want you to blow whatever chances you have left."

"Wes, I appreciate your concern. You know I do. You're a good friend. But we have to start somewhere. Most experienced managers are already backing candidates at this point and…I have a good feeling about this guy."

"A good feeling? Really, Blaine? Really?"

Blaine smirked and childishly crossed his arms over his chest. "My campaign, my rules. I'm interviewing this kid, so there!"

"Very mature words from our future senator," Wes sighed before laughing.

"You're the one who spearheaded this pipe dream."

"You know I believe in you, Blaine," Wes said bluntly. Then he glanced down at his watch. "Well, my lunch break is over. Time to go scare some interns," he grinned wickedly. "Enjoy your interview, don't get killed or anything by the mystery potential-psycho. Also, call me!"

Blaine chuckled as his friend stepped out of his office and straightened his tie before going back to the reports he'd been studying earlier when Wes had barged in and demanded to know all about the upcoming interview. His numbers were definitely down. He needed some political face-time terribly.

"Mr. Anderson," Abby Wright's voice rang through his intercom.  
>"Abby, I really need you to call me Blaine," he reminded her with a smile she couldn't see but he hoped she could still hear. "I get enough 'Mr. Anderson' when I'm out in public."<p>

"Right. Sorry, Sir," Abby laughed. Blaine sighed and guessed they'd have to tackle 'sir' another day. "Your one o'clock appointment has just arrived. Shall I have him wait?"

Blaine grinned. It was only twelve-fifty. _Points for punctuality, at least. _"Go ahead and send him in," he told his secretary, listening as Abby proceeded to give the gentleman directions down the hall to Blaine's office.

"Blaine," Abby said conspiratorially once the man was out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"He's cute," she giggled before hanging up.

**~K~B~**

Kurt had sweaty palms. Actual, honest-to-Gaga, first-date jitters type sweaty palms. He didn't think he'd been this nervous since coming out to his dad back in sophomore year. Or maybe those horrible weeks following his high school bully's death threat where he'd constantly been looking over his shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But really, this was just a job interview. It was _not_ life or death. If Blaine Anderson didn't hire him, it wouldn't be the end of the world. After all, Kurt had virtually no experience in this field of work anyway. To be honest, the guy would have to be insane _to_ hire him.

And now Kurt was just pep-talking himself into circles.

Just as he reached the ominous oak door with 'Blaine Anderson' plated across the front tastefully, his pocket buzzed.

He fished his cell phone out with shaking hands and grinned down at the text.

_You're going to be wonderful! Courage, Kurt! This is nothing compared to what you've already faced and succeeded at!_

"God love you, Rachel Berry," Kurt sighed, pocketing his phone and making three quick taps on the door before being beckoned in.

In all of the researching Kurt had accomplished over the weekend with Rachel (in between grudgingly running lines with her for her newest show) he'd, of course, run across several pictures of the esteemed Blaine Anderson. So, of course, he'd known the man was good looking in that prep-school ivy-league kind of way. But, damn, did pictures not do him enough justice. Kurt was fairly certain he could just parade Blaine around the city and garner every straight woman and gay man's vote.

Blaine had deep, honey-colored eyes and a mop of short-trimmed dark curly hair that kept his slightly lined face looking young and vibrant. He had a great smile and broad, well-filled shoulders encased in a stunning three-piece Armani. Kurt thought he might be drooling as the potential senator rose from his seat and stepped around his desk to shake Kurt's hand and formally introduce himself.

"You must be, Kurt Hummel," He said. Kurt nodded, still trying to get his brain to function at a level other than 'oh yummy eye-candy.'

_Say something Kurt. Say anything. Hello. Nice to meet you. Hire me please. Anything!_

"You're a lot shorter in person." Kurt felt his own eyes bug out of his head as he clapped a hand to his mouth in horror.

_Anything but that._

Fortunately, Blaine seemed to find it amusing and threw his head back in a genuine and beautiful chuckle.

"I get that a lot," he nodded.

"Oh my Gaga, I can't believe I just actually _said_ that. I am so sorry. I apparently left my mouth-filter at home this morning," Kurt sighed, mentally trying to remember if there had been any job openings listed in the paper this morning. This interview was already a disaster.

"It's fine," Blaine said with a smile. "Really. At least I know you're honest, right."

"I guess that is a desirable trait, given your last manager," Kurt nodded. "Oh God, I did it again," he sighed then.

Blaine laughed and pointed Kurt to the seat across from his desk before going around and taking up his own chair. "Again, it's fine."

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized anyway. "I must have developed _foot_-in-mouth disease over night. I'm not normally this…blunt."

"Well if your friend…Renee, was it?"

"Rachel."

"Right. Well, if she's anything to judge by, I'd say you caught it from her," Blaine grinned.

"Did she ambush you," Kurt asked with a sympathizing smile. "She's bad about that, though she's gotten a _lot_ better since high school. I'm sorry for her too. Rachel is best in small doses until you get used to her particular brand of crazy."

"I see," Blaine nodded. "She certainly spoke very highly of you," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"She probably knows me better than I know myself," Kurt admitted with a sheepish smile. "She's sort of the sister I never had…or wanted."

Blaine laughed again. "You're very funny, Kurt," he said as he leaned back in his chair a bit. "So tell me about yourself."

"Oh…um… well, I moved to New York for college and majored in fashion and business at NYU. I've had a few jobs in the industry itself, mostly as a gopher and I once did a design for Paris fashion week but didn't get to show it because of a family crisis. I'm a perfectionist, which is probably both my biggest strength and weakness. I live in a four-by-four closet in lower-west and I have an addiction to coffee."

Blaine smiled at him and nodded, forming a pyramid with his hands and resting his chin there. "Where did you move from?"

"Lima, Ohio. A horrible place. Seriously, don't ever go there."

Blaine's eyebrows rose into his hairline in surprise. "Lima? Really?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Well, I went to high school in Westerville. Dalton Academy."

Kurt felt his jaw drop in the most horrendously unattractive way. How had he not caught that in all of his weekend research? "Wow."

Blaine laughed. "Indeed. Small world, huh?"

"I…I guess so."

Blaine nodded, a different sort of smile crossing his features now. Something softer, more thoughtful. "Here's the thing, Kurt," He said levelly. "I'm sure you've heard all about the scandal that was my last manager." Kurt nodded. "I'm behind in the polls, my campaign is being smeared and what I'm really looking for is someone to work a miracle. I've been advised by just about everyone I know to pull out and wait for the next term, but I firmly believe that what I stand for, what I'm fighting for, needs to happen sooner rather than later. So tell me, Kurt, what makes you think you're right for this job?"

Kurt took a deep breath and tried to remember everything he and Rachel had discussed this weekend. "I'm not going to lie to you, Mr. Anderson. I have virtually no experience in campaign management and while I've been coordinating events most of my life, I've never considered it a future profession. But I do believe in your platform. The people you speak for…people like me…we need a voice in senate. I'd be overjoyed if you were that voice and I'd be honored to help you make that happen."

Blaine gave him a smile like he'd just passed a pop quiz. "If I were to hire you, I'd be taking a huge risk. You realize that, don't you? As you said, you have no experience. You're very young and all that I know about you at this point is that you're gay and you have an excellent sense of humor. Having said all that," Blaine sighed. "I've got this feeling that you can do great things, Kurt Hummel. Or maybe that's just your friend, Rachel's, voice in my head. Either way…I'm going out on a limb here."

"Are…are you seriously saying what I think you are," Kurt stammered, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Blaine nodded and reached his hand across the desk. "Welcome aboard, Kurt Hummel. I hope you can work miracles."

A tingle shot through Kurt's arm as he shook his boss's (_boss's_!) hand. "I won't let you down," he promised, because, for the first time in years, Kurt had that overwhelming sensation of being exactly where he was meant to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God. _

_A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to my reviewers. I hope I live up to your expectations! Anniebee, thanks for your review and if you'd do me a favor and point out my mistakes, I'd like to go back and fix them. I do my own editing and sometimes after I've stared at something long enough I just can't tell what I'm reading anymore. _

_Anyway, I'm sorry about how long it took me to get this one out. For some reason I knew exactly what I wanted to happen but I just could not get the words to work with me. It turned out a lot shorter than I'd intended and it's sort of filler-like, but I promise good stuff is on its way. I've pretty much got this story mapped in my head from start to finish now so hopefully I'll be able to update either daily, or every other day. Hope everyone enjoys this installment. Review and let me know! Thanks!_

**Chapter Three: Of First Impressions**

Stanley didn't like him much.

Kurt could just tell.

It wouldn't have been a very big deal under any other circumstances. Stanley Kent was a squat man with flabby arms and no neck. He smelled a little like salami and he was dressed, from top to bottom, in tweed. Generally speaking, anyone that offensive to that many different senses would've fallen off of Kurt's radar before he even had time to insult them.

Unfortunately, Stanley really needed to like Kurt because, as it turned out, for all his faults the man was apparently a genius with numbers and had been handling Blaine's finances (both personal and professional) for years.

Awesome.

Stanley was currently sitting across from Kurt at a ten-person table in one of the back rooms of the Anderson Campaign office. Kurt wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting of the senatorial election headquarters, but what he got was a small rented space off of Seventh and a tidy, open office design. Several desks had been arranged in clover-leaf formation, each with a computer, phone and volunteer to man it. Many of the workers looked to be in their early twenties—college students, Kurt guessed—but there were several older people flitting about the office as well in all shapes and sizes. The three back rooms, Kurt had learned through a quick personal tour from Blaine himself, were a small conference area, bathroom, and Blaine's own private office, respectively.

Unfortunately, shortly after the very pleasant tour, Kurt had been subjected to the torture of both meeting and proving himself to the current staff which included the aforementioned Stanley Kent, Finance Chair; Sandy Michaels, a sixty-two-year-old transvestite who handled volunteer operations; Patricia Blake, the office manager; and Wesley Chang, Blaine's attorney ("You have an attorney? Aren't _you_ an attorney?" "Wes represents me in public cases so that I can focus more on keeping my image clean").

Getting on Sandy's good side hadn't been difficult. All that Kurt had to do was compliment his Vanessa Bruno skirt and the man was practically fawning. Patricia also seemed to warm to him and had this lovely, maternal air about her that reminded Kurt very much of his stepmother Carole. Even Wes, who introduced himself as 'Blaine's oldest and closest friend, so you better not be a repeat of the last guy, Hummel,' seemed to be warming up to him slowly. But Stanley…Stanley just seemed to hate him.

"Do you even know how a campaign works, Kurt," Stanley was saying now as he flipped through a ledger full of handwritten numbers. "Our account is pretty much empty thanks to your predecessor," Kurt noticed Blaine's flinch at the words but Stanley steamed on, "and it's your job to get Blaine out into the public, looking good and bringing in financial backers. Do you even know how you'll do that yet?"

Kurt resisted the urge to shout petulantly. Stanley already considered him a child. Behaving like one wouldn't help his case. "Look," he said calmly instead, making sure to catch everyone's eye before looking back to his new arch-nemesis (he'd turned Rachel into his best friend, he could do it again). "I could sit here and pretend that I know exactly what I'm doing and that I've got experience in this business, but the truth is, you're right, I don't. I've never managed a campaign before and, while I've done my homework, there are going to be things you'll have to help me with at first. But here's what I'm bringing to the table Stanley, new ideas and new ways of getting things done. I'm not like every other campaign manager who would give their left arm for this opportunity. My marketing classes were about products, not people, but let me let you in on a little secret nobody wants you to know. Marketing? It's all the same. Image is always image. To sell something, people needed to know what it does and where they can find it. And, in that case, I am definitely the man for this job because I've got something nobody else you could've put in this chair has."

"And what's that," Wes asked, eyebrows raised in mild appreciation. At the end of the table Kurt noticed Blaine beaming at him.

Kurt gave Wes a cocky smile. "A completely unique outlook."

**~K~B~**

"I have to admit, Blaine, I was a little nervous at first," Wes said to his best friend over lunch. It had been several hours and another two heated discussions before Kurt and Stanley had reached some sort of consensus for the campaign's future and the group could take a break from all the tension. It had all been worth it to see the absolute passion in the younger man's eyes, Blaine thought.

"You didn't like Kurt from the beginning," Blaine frowned because, honestly, the second the boy had walked through his office door, Blaine had been pretty much sold. He'd never met anyone quite as unique and yet somehow as solid as Kurt Hummel. It was as intriguing as it was intimidating. And that was coming from a senatorial candidate.

"Oh, he seemed perfectly nice and genuine, it's more that," Wes paused and studied his friend carefully. "He's very good looking, Kurt."

Blaine choked a little on the sip of water he'd just taken. "Switching teams a little late in the game, aren't you Wes?"

"Oh, please," Wesley laughed. "I'm married, you moron."

Blaine raised a teasing eyebrow. "I always did wonder about you and David back in high school. You two have a pretty epic bromance."

Wesley laughed appreciatively. "I told you, he's my hetero life mate. My wife can accept this. Why can't you? Anyway, my point is, Kurt _is_ a good looking guy. And he's kind and very funny and obviously incredibly passionate about whatever he sets his mind to. It's not that I didn't like him right away. It's more that…I think you like him a little too much."

Blaine refrained from choking this time, but only just. "You think I hired him so that I could sleep with him? Wes, that's just skeevy! And gross! And, I'm _so_ not that guy."

"Obviously," Wes said with an eyeroll. "I didn't think you were going to offer him a job to seduce him. I was just worried that maybe your perception of his abilities was warped by the shape of his ass in those pants."

"Damn Wes," Blaine sighed, shaking his head. "Your wife seriously just lets it go when you say things like that."

"Stop deflecting. You know I'm right, Blaine."

Blaine gave a noncommittal shrug. "Of course Kurt is attractive. A blind man could see that much. But that's not why I hired him. He's…there's something," Blaine waved his hands around uselessly like he could pluck the word he was searching for out of the air. "He's just different than anyone I've ever met."

"Blaine," Wes said gently, resting a hand on his friend's forearm. "I get it. I do. And watching him hand Stanley's ass back was incredible. Man, I know he's good with numbers, but that guy is such a douche. The thing is, Blaine, no matter how incredible this kid is, you're gonna have to keep your distance. You can't really afford relationship distractions this close to the election and besides, it would draw all sorts of awkward scandalous rumors into the campaign that I don't feel like ironing out for you."

"Wes," Blaine said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not sixteen. I'm not going to fall head-over-heels for Kurt because he has amazing eyes and a winning personality. It's all professional. I promise."

Wes laughed. "Might wanna refrain from calling his eyes 'amazing' then," he pointed out helpfully.

"Oh, shut up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God. _

_A/N: God, I just love you guys! I'd forgotten how addicting a review can be! A few shout outs__**: YaDiva, Megumi, Obsessed**__ and __**Zefron**__, I hope this installment doesn't disappoint. __**Lucifer**__, I LOVE Wes too! He's totally underplayed in the show! __**Anniebee**__, please don't feel silly. I appreciated the critique and took your corrections. Thanks! _

_On a different note, I'm not sure when I'll be posting next. I'll probably still be writing over the next week (because, honestly, I just don't know how to turn my brain off) but I'll be in Texas visiting my girlfriend for the first time in 2 months! I'm so excited! So, while I'm sorry if there are any delays in the story, I'm not at all sorry to get to see her beautiful face! (Squee!)_

_Ahem…sorry, anyway, enjoy!_

**Chapter Four: Fate's Fools **

Fate apparently had it out for Blaine Anderson.

No sooner had he determined to keep his distance concerning his newest employee then it suddenly seemed the man was absolutely everywhere.

In the next week alone he bumped into Kurt on his way into a local bargain bookstore (the two of them had chatted amiably for several moments before things became awkward because—well, because their conversation hadn't been awkward at all really), at the organic market (where they'd both reached for the same mango before pulling away and making hurried excuses to leave) and one morning while jogging through Central Park.

Up until this last occurrence, Blaine had been willing to believe it was all mere coincidence, but when he stepped into the new coffee shop a block down from his apartment Saturday morning to find Kurt's lithe figure curled cat-like in an armchair by the window, he decided it was time to take fate's taunt head on.

After receiving his cup of coffee he made his way purposefully towards the young man who worked for him, currently sitting with a sketchpad resting on his knee and his delicate hands making precise skillful strokes.

"If I run into you anymore this week, I'm going to have to assume I've been dropped into a bad RomCom," he began, startling Kurt slightly, who jumped a little in his seat and flicked his eyes up to meet Blaine's.

Blaine tried really hard to ignore the tightening in his chest that formed as Kurt's face split into a wide grin.

"Mr. Anderson," He chuckled, then, taking in his surroundings nodded his agreement. "You're right. I mean, New York is a pretty big city to have seen you more this week then I've seen my best friend." As he spoke, the younger man turned in his seat and lifted a bag from the chair beside him. "Would you like to join me?"

"I wouldn't want to interrupt whatever creative flow I've already encroached on," Blaine said shaking his head, but Kurt was already tucking his sketchpad back into his bag with a dismissive shrug.

"It was nothing. Sometimes…" Kurt paused and bit his lip. "Nevermind."

"What," Blaine prompted. His eyes were unable to break focus from where Kurt's teeth worked at his pretty red lips as he allowed himself to sink into the seat Kurt had cleared for him. _Bad Blaine_, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Wesley hissed. _This is the exact opposite of keeping your distance._ Blaine ignored the voice pointedly. "You can't do that. Start a sentence and not finish. It makes me crazy," he joked.

Kurt flushed. "It's just…the sketch is nothing," he shrugged. "It'll never be anything, just another drawing in one of my books that I don't have the time, or energy or resources to make a reality." He frowned.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed in understanding. In that moment he'd give just about anything to see the light back in the other man's eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

Kurt shrugged as if to say 'why not?'

"Why are you working for me? Really? I mean, I get that you needed a job and you're amazing at what you do but…why aren't you doing what you love? What you spend your Saturday mornings stenciling into your notebooks?"

"Trying to get rid of me already," Kurt teased evasively. When Blaine only raised his eyebrows the younger man continued, resigned. "I guess I just…lost something somewhere. There was…well, an incident last year. It's like…have you ever had something so awful happen that you didn't feel like the same person when it was all over? Like, the whole world went right back to where it was but…you just couldn't?"

Blaine nodded solemnly. "Yes," he said simply.

Kurt didn't ask for clarification and Blaine returned the favor.

"Did you ever…find yourself again," the younger man asked after a few moments of contemplative silence.

"I…I guess I found a new version of me."

"Did you like him better?"

"It's not a matter of better or worse, Kurt," Blaine shrugged, resting a hand on the younger man's arm despite all the mental warnings he gave himself not to do so. "It's…it's a matter of waking up and looking in the mirror and being okay with who you see. Did I always think I'd be this guy? This man who wears suits and runs for office? No. Definitely not. But…" Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. "Like you said. Some things, they just, change you. This is who I became."

"For the record," Kurt said softly, meeting Blaine's eyes and smiling softly. "I think I'd be okay if the person I became was someone like you."

The pools of Kurt's grey-blue eyes shimmered with something that Blaine refused to let himself fall into. "I think you're doing just fine as you are," Blaine heard himself saying.

**~K~B~**

Coffee suddenly became Kurt's new obsession and he refused to let himself think about the reasons why. He also refused to question his motives for going nearly twenty minutes away for a cup when there was a perfectly lovely coffee shop less than a block from his own apartment.

He was _not_ falling for his boss.

He just wasn't.

That would be stupid and juvenile and utterly pathetic.

So he wasn't.

He just couldn't be.

He'd almost convinced himself of this until Blaine's voice rang out in his ears after perhaps their third such 'accidental' rendezvous. "Kurt, _please_ call me Blaine. 'Mr. Anderson' sounds so terribly _formal_. I hate titles and I hear them quite enough from strangers, no need to hear it from friends."

Kurt wished he could wipe the stupid grin from his face at the word 'friends.' "What are you planning to do when everyone starts calling you 'Senator,'" he asked.

He didn't expect Blaine's flirty response. "Legally change my last name to 'Blaine,' too?"

"You'd be Senator Blaine Blaine?"

Blaine nodded like he was letting Kurt in on some well-thought master plan and winked. "Well yes, except that people would only ever address me by my last name so, 'Senator Blaine.'"

This time a full, laugh burst from Kurt's lips before he could sensor himself. "A full-proof plan," he nodded with approval.

"I thought so."

And there it was.

Kurt knew then, by the familiar tightening in his chest and the way his breath hitched just a little at the sensation. He was totally falling for his boss.

_Kurt Hummel, you are a moron._

The wise thing to do would be to keep his distance.

The wise thing to do would be to focus on his job (Hello? The job he'd put so much effort into and was doing so surprising well at? The job he'd grown, unexpectedly, to love?).

And Kurt would swear he tried.

But the fact of the matter was that fate was forever throwing Blaine Anderson into his path these days and _how was that fair_ if he wasn't allowed to pursue.

So Kurt split the difference and made a bargain with himself: _Get Blaine elected and _then _you can ask him out._

Even Rachel had complimented him then on his new approach at dedication.

"Kurt," she said one evening when he came over to have dinner with her and Finn (the couple had often fed him dinner over the past year when he'd been at his worst. Finn was nothing if not a dedicated brother). "I must say I haven't seen you put this much work into a project since—" she cut off abruptly and bit her lip.

Kurt smiled at her in understanding. "It's fine, Rach."

"No, Kurt, it isn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't," Kurt shook his head. He pretended to ignore the silent conversation his brother and best friend had over his head then. "It's fine. Honest."

"Rachel has a point, dude," Finn said cautiously as he folded his long legs to join his fiancé and brother in the floor of their living room where the duo had been splitting the coffee table to work on their respective jobs and share a vegan pizza. "You're really gung-ho about this campaign, huh?"

Kurt looked up at his brother smiling. "It's just…so genuine," he found himself trying to explain. "All the bullshit I've been through, he gets it. Who wouldn't want someone in office who has been there, who's been the underdog?"

Rachel nodded. "Well," she assured Kurt, reaching across the table to take his hand. "He's got my vote."

Kurt tried not to add it to his mental tally of people who would help him to impress Blaine Anderson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God. _

_A/N: Dear readers, thank you for being the only thing to get me through this past week. As it turns out, I went to Texas to see my girlfriend only to be dumped upon arrival. Apparently it was something she wasn't "comfortable" discussing on the phone and needed to do face-to-face. Surprise! _

_Anyway, without delving too much into the sugar-induced coma that followed my early return home, let's just say that I've not been in much of a romance mood. The only thing that is getting this chapter up tonight is sheer willpower and the smile that finally found its way to my face when I re-read some of your reviews. Thank you guys! I hope this doesn't disappoint. Admittedly probably not my best work._

**Chapter Five: Of Being Impressive**

The campaign office went dead after seven. Volunteers stopped making phone calls after six p.m. and many trickled home to finish up on homework or to head out for night jobs. Even the staff could usually wrap up paperwork and reports for the evening within an hour. Only Blaine found himself there late into most nights, one part passionate work ethic, one part desire not to retreat to his empty apartment alone. Still, by nine p.m. even he had to concede that there was nothing left for him to do and that the letters his secretary Abby had typed up were, in fact, as perfect as her work always was.

Blaine was just about to cut off the lights in the main room when he noticed, almost belatedly, the lone figure hunched over a volunteer desk, head down and calculator running desperately beside him.

"Kurt," Blaine asked when he recognized the red cardigan over button-up combo the younger man had come in with that morning. (And no, for the record, Blaine had not been staring for several seconds when Sandy coughed and brought him out of his Kurt-induced haze.)

At his voice, Kurt gave a little jump and turned in his seat, pressing a hand to his heart. "Grilled Cheesus, you scared me," He murmured. Or at least, that's what Blaine thought he said.

"Grilled…_Cheesus_?"

Blaine could see Kurt's pale cheeks flush even in the low lighting. "It's kind of a long story and you'd have to know my brother to really get it," he explained vaguely.

"You have siblings," Blaine asked. For some reason it was hard to picture Kurt with a brother or sister.

Kurt nodded. "Finn. Technically, he's my step-brother and generally he's an idiot but," he sighed and gave a slight smile, "I guess he's my idiot."

"I always wanted a sibling," Blaine admitted.

Kurt threw his head back laughing. "Yeah, I used to say that too. Then I got one. It has its moments, I suppose."

"And what are you still doing here so late," Blaine asked, intrigued.

Kurt smirked, "I could ask you the same thing. Your employees went home two hours ago, you know."

"Not all of them," Blaine pointed out, perching on the edge of the desk where Kurt was seated. "I'm pretty sure number-crunching is Stan's job," he added teasingly as he took note of the neatly scrawled numbers across the paper Kurt was focused on. "Unless you've scared him off, that is."

Kurt gave him a rather sheepish smile. "He doesn't like me much, does he?"

"He doesn't like anybody, really," Blaine assured him, trying very hard not to find Kurt's proud smirk so endearing. "I'm pretty sure he only puts up with me because I sign the checks."

"Well, I know that's the only reason _I_ put up with you," Kurt joked.

"Ha, ha," Blaine deadpanned. "Seriously, what are you up to?"

Kurt gave a resigned sigh. "Just working miracles," he answered looking up and, _my God_, Blaine thought, _his eyes really are incredible._ "Stan wants me to hold a fundraiser banquet, and he's right, unfortunately. You need to start polishing up your image and remind people of why you are exactly what this country needs. Sadly, the old adage rings true here, 'you have to spend money to make money.' And that seems to be the one thing this campaign lacks."

Blaine sighed. "Regretting taking the job already?"

Kurt chuckled. "Oh no, I love a good challenge. I'll get it figured out."

"I have no doubt," Blaine nodded. It was eerie how fully he trusted this almost complete stranger.

"Well good," Kurt nodded. "That at least makes two of us."

"It does. Come on, Kurt," Blaine added, standing up from his perch. "It's late. We both ought to be heading home."

"Oh, it's fine. Sandy gave me a key so I could lock up."

"Kurt," Blaine laughed. "This is your boss telling you to get the hell out of here and go home."

Kurt smiled in response but did as he was bidden, rising from his seat, stacking his paperwork into a neat file and tucking it into the satchel he'd left on the floor. "I guess when you put it that way, I really have no choice."

"That's right. Every now and then I enjoy actually being in charge of things," Blaine laughed.

"And yet you hired me to run your life," Kurt reminded him, stepping out into the brisk April air with Blaine and standing by while the older man locked up.

"Which you're doing an excellent job of, by the way," Blaine nodded appreciatively as the two of them headed down the street in companionable silence. It was oddly familiar and comforting considering they'd known each other less than a month now. Blaine paused at the corner of the street where his BMW sat waiting for him. "Can I give you a ride home?"

Kurt's cheeks flushed. "Thanks, but I'm actually not far from here and I think I'd enjoy a little fresh air after being trapped in the office all day."

"You're sure? It's late and I'd hate for—"

"That's sweet, Blaine, but I can take care of myself. I promise."

"Believe me, I have not doubt you can take care of yourself. I'd never imply otherwise having seen your face-off with Stan. I'm just…"

"A perfect gentleman," Kurt supplied helpfully, his smile genuine even if his words were teasing. "Yes, I'd notice." Blaine felt an odd heat in his chest.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Kurt."

"Yes. Thanks for kicking me out."

Blaine laughed. "Anytime. Have a safe trip home."

"Goodnight, Blaine," Kurt said, his hand coming up to give a little wave of his fingers.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine sighed too quietly for the already retreating boy to hear. "Damn," he muttered a moment later. "I hate when Wes is right," he added to himself as he climbed reluctantly into his car.

**~K~B~**

The second Kurt heard Blaine's engine crank, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number. "Rachel? I need a favor."

He was thankful they'd been friends long enough for her not to ask questions.

"Come on over. Finn's making spaghetti."

When Kurt stepped into his brother and future sister-in-law's apartment though (he'd been given a key from day one so that he could let Finn in whenever his brother inevitably locked himself out), it was to the heavenly smell of garlic and marinara.

"I gotta hand it to you, Rach," he said to his best friend as he admired the bizarre sight of his brother humming to himself and stirring a simmering red sauce on the stove, "You've trained him well. I'm impressed."

Rachel laughed. "Finn's sort of like a puppy, he just needs reinforcement and constant reminders."

Kurt nodded knowingly. "Yes, it was the reminder part I always lost patience with when we were kids."

"You know, I can hear both of you and I think I'm insulted. Maybe I won't let either of you _eat_ my delicious spaghetti."

"We only tease because we love you, Finn." Kurt assured him, smiling as his brother turned for a moment to stick his tongue out childishly. It might have been the most misguided plan of Kurt's life, but he'd never regret introducing his dad to Finn's mom. Not when it afford him this.

"So," Rachel prompted, drawing Kurt back into the present, "What's the favor?"

Kurt took a deep breath before launching immediately into his dilemma_. _"I need a gay-friendly, preferably gay-_owned_ venue where I can hold a fundraiser dinner for Blaine."

"_Blaine_?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Yes, Finn. The man I work for." _The deliciously handsome, unbearably kind man that I work for_, he added with a mental groan.

"You're on a first name basis," Rachel smirked. Kurt just rolled his eyes. She didn't need to know that his heart rate increased every time he said the older man's name. "I _knew_ you two would hit it off. He's very good looking. I certainly would've made an attempt for him."

"Rachel, honey, he's gay, remember?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Obviously. I'm just saying I bet he had a sexuality crisis where he tried to prove to himself that he was straight—you did. I _so_ could've been his Brittany."

"It's sad for you how that sounded like an aspiration," Kurt smirked.

"Also, your fiancé is in the kitchen cooking you dinner," Finn added, though both Rachel and Kurt could hear his smile. "Maybe you could resist fawning over gay men?"

"Right," Kurt nodded. "Anyway, the point is that Blaine—oh, stop looking at me like that—needs face time and the campaign desperately needs some money. I need to find somewhere to hold this event that isn't going to charge me an arm and a leg. Actually, I need to find somewhere that isn't going to charge at all, if I'm completely honest."

Rachel nodded, quickly racking her brain for every LGBT-owned facility in the city. Rachel had taken her burgeoning fame as a rising Broadway star to promote the gay community, so Kurt knew she was the person to go to.

"_Christoff's_," she said finally. "He's definitely 'family'—"

"Rach, you can't call him _family_ unless you're actually gay."

"I'm honorary-gay and as I was saying, his place is pretty new but very upper-crust. I actually got to speak with him last week when I went with Jenny because we were both so excited to find a full vegan menu available. I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out. I know for a fact he's following the Anderson Campaign."

"And this is why you're my favorite soon-to-be-sister-in-law," Kurt laughed, pulling the smaller girl into a hug.

"I am rather fabulous," Rachel agreed with a grin.

Finn, of course, had to ruin the moment. "So, _Blaine_, huh?"

"Don't, Finn. Just…don't," Kurt whined. It was a problem, Kurt knew. But it'd have to be a problem for later. "Okay, Rach, let's talk entertainment."

**~K~B~**

"Okay, I admit it, I'm impressed," Wes said with a low whistle as Kurt passed out the event timetable and financial estimate.

"I'm suspicious," Stanley added with a quirked eyebrow as he too began running the numbers in his head. "There's no way you can do all this, at this venue, with this price tag."

Kurt sounded positively affronted. "What _exactly_ are you implying?"

"That we've already forded through one embezzlement scandal and we can't afford for our numbers to be wrong again," Stanley said pointedly.

"Stan," Blaine found himself reprimanding before he'd even realized he was jumping to Kurt's defense. Still, Blaine turned to the younger man and continued, "Nobody is implying anything, Kurt. We're just curious how you made this possible."

Blaine tried very hard not to use mental adjectives like 'adorable' as Kurt sat up a little straighter in his chair and preened. "Chris, of _Christoff's_, is a proud member of the LGBT community and fully committed to our campaign," Kurt supplied. "He's also a friend of my soon-to-be-sister-in-law and was more than happy to provide the venue and menu for the event free of charge."

"And the entertainer? Last I heard Mercedes Jones was preparing to go on tour," Blaine asked with a quirked eyebrow. He wasn't exactly a follower of the newest and brightest star out of Hollywood to top the R&B charts (Blaine was more a Top 40s guy, himself) but he'd definitely been impressed by the woman's passion and talent.

Kurt gave a little chuckle, his eyes bright with something like pride. "Mercedes and I are old friends and…well, let's just say this is a favor I've been hanging on to for years now. Her first tour stop will be in the city anyway so she agreed to perform for us while she's in town."

"Like I said," Wes sighed with a shake of his head, the look he cut Blaine clearly said 'you are so screwed, man,' "I'm officially impressed."

"Why thank you, Wesley," Kurt beamed. "Stan, did you have any more concerns?" He added and Blaine had to feign a cough to cover up the chuckle bubbling in his throat at Kurt's cheek.

"Not at the moment," Stan admitted sullenly.

Kurt nodded, as if to say 'I win'. "Well, you know where to find me if you do," he added in an overly polite tone.

The way Kurt swayed his hips just slightly as he sauntered proudly out of the room at the conclusion of the meeting told Blaine that Wes was right. He was totally screwed. It wasn't a matter of not falling for Kurt. It was a matter of keeping this awful knowledge to himself.

"Oh, I like him," Patricia smiled as she followed Kurt's exit from the room with a wide smile.

_So do I_, Blaine thought miserably.


	6. Chapter 6

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: Believe me when I say, if I owned Glee, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's faces. Ryan Murphy is my God. _

_A/N: So between obsessively listening to Ke$ha's The Harold Song (I swear, but for the 'unshaved face' line this song is quite literally the story of my relationship) and eating an amount of chocolate that makes my morning run more necessary than usual, I think I'm slowly piecing myself back together. _

_Your well wishes and complimentary reviews do wonders, so thanks guys. I forget sometimes that there is something beautiful about the camaraderie of fanfic society. It's amazing how words from strangers are pulling me through all this. _

_Anyway, enough whining and waxing poetic. So this chapter actually kinda snuck up on me. I guess I'd always vaguely had this idea, but when I started writing it down it just…became this entity all its own and wrote itself. Also, Perchance to Wake, I completely agree. Music was always in the cards for these two. Hope you enjoy it! _

**Chapter Six: Til I See It In Your Eyes**

"You know you don't have to eat dinner here every night just because I'm giving you the place for free next week?"

Kurt looked up with a sheepish smile as Chris slid into the seat across from him and propped his face up on his chin with a cheeky smirk.

Chris was a really nice guy. He was smart and very talkative and _damn_ could he cook. Plus, he'd lit up instantly when Kurt had proposed the idea of using his brand new restaurant as a venue for a swanky congressional soirée.

It was for all of those reason, plus the fact that Rachel was driving him absolutely insane, that Kurt had spent the past three afternoons enjoying one of Chris's custom creations for dinner and pouring over his sketch book in pleasant silence.

"Don't sell yourself short, Chris, I'm totally here for the food," Kurt assured his new friend as he took a pointed bite of his fresca chicken salad.

Chris smiled appreciatively. "So what are you working on then? Something for the campaign?" He politely did _not_ try to peer over the angled edge of Kurt's notebook.

"Not tonight," Kurt laughed, turning his book slightly so that Chris could admire the rough sketch Kurt had been working on for Rachel's wedding dress. There were perks to being so well connected to up-and-coming celebrities. His clothes may not be on a runway, but one of his masterpieces would definitely be featured on Broadway's newest star come October.

"Wow," Chris nodded, his eyes blowing wide in admiration. "You're incredibly talented, you know?"

Kurt laughed. "I know."

Chris's eyes lit up a little more and he joined in the chuckle.

Rachel's dress (her whole wedding preparation, really) had been plaguing Kurt for weeks now. The girl had perhaps improved slightly in the fashion department (for which Kurt was taking complete credit) but she still could not be trusted to make big decisions on her own. Especially since she was marrying Kurt's brother and Kurt was therefore required to be not only present but a participant in the ceremony.

"I like the gold star detailing. Very original," Chris complimented, studying the tiny sequined additions Kurt had drawn along the sweetheart-neckline and continued down in a vague starburst pattern across the bust and asymmetrically down one side.

"Rachel is all about gold stars," Kurt explained with a shrug. "It just…it wouldn't be her without them."

"You're a really good friend to have put so much thought into this on top of all you do with your job."

Kurt felt heat rush to his cheeks. "It's nothing really. More a self-preservation technique than anything else. I'd hate to see what Rachel wore to her wedding if left to her own devices." He actually shuddered at the thought.

Chris laughed appreciatively then grew quiet and sort of pensive. Kurt would be the first to admit that after only a handful of conversations he didn't know the man well at all, but silence didn't really seem like Chris's thing. "You okay," he asked after the quiet had grown almost awkward.

Chris's face flushed. "Kurt," He sighed, running a hand through his honey-blonde hair, "I've been trying to talk my self out of this and then back into and then to come up with a smooth, appropriate way to do it, but as it turns out I'm not good at much that isn't cooking."

Kurt frowned, utterly confused.

"So I'm just going to lay my cards on the table because at this point, any sort of answer will be a relief from all the worrying and wondering. Would you…would you maybe like to go out sometime? To a place that isn't _my_ restaurant? On a date? With me?"

Kurt sucked in a surprised breath and studied Chris's adorably flushed cheeks and the way his teeth worked his lip and sighed because if he'd met Chris even two months ago he'd have leapt at such an opportunity. But this wasn't two months ago and damn Blaine Anderson for being so perfect and so perfectly unavailable.

But that was just it, wasn't it? Blaine was _unavailable_. And he'd not made any sort of hints that he was interested in Kurt. And maybe it was time to put all this crushing away for a little while (though he'd still be compulsively seeking out votes because that was, after all, his job now. It had nothing to do with his pact to himself. Nothing whatsoever.)

"Okay," he said after a minute longer. Chris seemed just as surprised by the answer as Kurt felt.

**~K~B~**

"David, what are we doing here?" Wes moaned, couching his face in his hands and sighing in well-practiced long-suffering.

Blaine took the third seat at the small, circular table and raised a curious eyebrow. "Did you bring us to a karaoke bar? Really, David? Are we twenty?"

"Oh shut up," David laughed, punching Wes lightly in the arm. "And lighten up both of you. Jesus! I should never have let the two of you do the law school thing. It's made you both uptight adults."

"David, we're thirty. We _are_ adults."

"Again Wes, shut up," David laughed. "Look, I'm only in town for, like, two days. I want to see my best friends who never bother to come to Boston—"

"Hi! I'm kind of in the middle of a campaign—"

"—and I want to do something fun! This is New York for God's sake. I thought karaoke was decidedly mellow compared to some of the shenanigans I could get up to here."

"Well he has a point there," Wes nodded resolutely. David had been his best friend long enough to know when not to argue.

Blaine just shook his head. "I'm pretty sure Kurt will kill me if my face is in the tabloids tomorrow because I dropped into a bar."

"Please," David scoffed. "I already paid the bouncer to keep paparazzi out. I'm not an idiot."

Blaine shook his head. "You are just horrible," he sighed. "But fine. I mean, we're here now right?"

"Right," David grinned widely, waving the waiter over and ordering a round of beers. "Let's just enjoy the show, pick on the crappy singers, maybe go on stage and embarrass ourselves once or twice and go home like the old fuddy-duddies we apparently are."

"I am not a fuddy-duddy," Wes protested with a frown. "I'm a lawyer. It's different."

"It so isn't," Blaine sighed with a shake of his head.

**~K~B~**

Kurt was feeling pretty stupid.

Not that this was an entirely new feeling for him, especially when it came to being on dates (honestly, he was a gay kid in Lima, Ohio, it wasn't like boys were beating down his doors. He was 25 and had had all of three boyfriends—and one really horrible one-night stand—none of whom turned out to be very nice guys in the end). But for once it was not the date that actually had him nervous. It wasn't even the location though, admittedly, he'd never have pegged Chris for a karaoke kind of guy considering the décor of his restaurant. It was actually just that Kurt hadn't found himself this close to a microphone and a stage in a really long time and he would give just about anything in the world to have not just said that out loud and caused Chris's eyebrows to raise almost comically.  
>"You sing?"<p>

Kurt shook his head. "Not anymore." That, at least, wasn't a lie.

"I bet you're incredible. When you speak you sound musical. I bet your voice is positively angelic." Kurt couldn't quite contain the flush in his cheeks at the compliment. "So sing for me," Chris prompted.

"I told you, I don't sing anymore. I haven't since my senior year at college."

"You are one great waste of talent, Kurt," Chris sighed, shaking his head and smirking at him, "You're an artist who only makes clothes for friends and a singer who won't climb on stage. Afraid of a little success," he asked teasingly.

Kurt rolled his eyes at the taunt. "Not hardly." He decided not to kill the playful mood by telling Chris all the ways that his 'angelic' voice had gotten him threatened in the past. "I'm simply holding myself back so that everyone else doesn't feel inferior."

Chris laughed boisterously. "I promise not to go into fits of self-loathing if you sing."

"Chris—"

"Please, Kurt?"

Kurt bit his lip and planned to keep protesting…but this whole night was supposed to be about breaking out of that bubble he'd let himself fall into, wasn't it? He was on a date with a man who _wasn't_ Blaine Anderson (even though, if he was honest with himself, he knew Blaine was the only person he'd like to be out with that night). Why couldn't he climb on the stage and do something he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy in years?

"Fine."

**~K~B~**

Blaine was laughing at one of David and Wesley's often-retold but somehow still amusing high school misadventures when the emcee announced the next torturer (er, singer) for the night. They'd already endured a tone-deaf, overweight, middle-aged woman in spandex belting _Don't Cha _(complete with dance moves that Blaine would give anything to forget) and a slurred homage to _Piano_ _Man_ by the lush nursing his fourth whiskey at the bar.And those were the good performances.

Blaine was about ready to go home.

"Please give it up for Mr. Kurt Hummel."

He turned so quickly at those words that something in his neck cracked painfully but Blaine ignored it as, to his utter astonishment, Kurt actually walked up onto the stage and took the mic confidently in his hand.

"He sings," Wes hissed.

Blaine nodded absently, but didn't turn around. "He was in his high school glee club," he told his friends absently. "Apparently he'd wanted to be a Broadway star but ended up changing his major to fashion when he got to NYU."

Blaine missed the raised eyebrows his friends passed at him as he rattled off Kurt's life history like he'd known the guy much longer than two months. He was much too busy watching as Kurt pasted a smile on his face and began crooning into the microphone that Blaine suddenly decided (to hell with appropriate thoughts) he'd give just about anything to be.

_I've been driving for an hour_

_ Just talking to the rain_

_ They say I've been driving crazy_

_ And it's keeping you away_

Blaine felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. It wasn't exactly surprising, the fact that Kurt could sing. Blaine had almost adjusted to the idea that Kurt could do just about anything. It was more that his voice was just…so incredible, so ethereal.

_And I take it just a little bit_

_I hold my breath and count to ten_

_I've been waiting for a chance to let you in_

_If I just breathe_

_Let it fill the space between _

_I'll know everything is alright_

It was the way Kurt was moving gently to the beat, the way his eyes closed when he hit the high notes, the way the music seemed to be flowing from him and around him and, just…wow!

_ Well it's all so overrated_

_ Not saying how you feel_

_ So you end up watching chances fade_

_ And wondering what's real_

_ And I give you just a little time_

_ I'm wondering if you realize_

_ I've been waiting til I see it in your eyes_

And it was the words, Blaine realized belatedly. It was the almost desperate plea in Kurt's voice as he talked about waiting for a sign.

_So I whisper in the dark_

_ Hoping you'll hear me_

_ Do you hear me?_

By the time Kurt was wrapping up the song with _I've been driving for an hour, just talking to the rain_, Blaine was finally coming around to catching his breath so that as the younger man climbed down from the stage, he found himself up out of his seat and crossing the bar in quick strides. He completely ignored the calls of his friends.

**~K~B~**

"I knew you'd be incredible," Chris was saying kindly, his eyes wide with appreciation and a bright smile on his face.

Kurt did his best to return the gesture, but his mind, and his eyes were busy focusing on Blaine Anderson who (Oh, dear Gaga) was literally pushing his way through the crowded bar towards their table.

And Kurt was so not ready to be ambushed by the guy he liked while he was on a date with a different guy and singing in karaoke bars about the first one.

_So, so complicated._

"Kurt," Chris asked softly at the same time that Blaine called out his name.

Kurt hated himself a little bit for instinctively turning to Blaine first. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Blaine replied. "I…you…you were great," he added after an awkward moment of hesitation.

Kurt smiled. "Thanks."

"Oh wow, you're Blaine Anderson," Chris said, reminding Kurt guiltily that the other man was, in fact, still in the room.

"Oh, uh, Chris, this is my boss, Blaine Anderson." Kurt said in hurried (awkward!) introduction. "Blaine, this is Chris. He'll be providing us with a venue next week for your banquet."

"Oh," Blaine blinked in surprise. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Chris, and thanks for helping us out."

"Of course," Chris nodded politely, "I'm a big fan of your campaign. We're happy to support it."

"That's very kind of you."

Kurt thought he might vomit at all the formal pleasantries being passed between the guy he liked and the guy he was (sort of) dating. _Ugh_.

"Anyway," Blaine said after a hesitant pause. "I'm…I hope I'm not interrupting, I just…I just wanted to come over and tell you," he turned to Kurt, "That you were amazing. Not that that should surprise me anymore. And to let you know that Wes is here and therefore the entire office will know that you can belt Michelle Branch by Monday."

Kurt groaned. "Damn. I knew that was a bad idea."

"Oh shut up," Chris chuckled, reaching across the table and resting a hand on Kurt's arm. "You were amazing. Truly."

Kurt blushed.

Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly and stared at the spot where Chris's hand met Kurt's skin for a moment. "Right. Well, again, sorry to interrupt. I'll just be going."

"It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Anderson," Chris nodded politely, holding out the hand that wasn't still resting on Kurt's arm to shake Blaine's.

"You too, Chris. Kurt, I…I guess I'll see you Monday."

"Of course," Kurt nodded readily. He watched as Blaine walked away with something like disappointment or shell-shock (maybe a healthy combination of both) in his eyes and sighed internally. Somehow, this felt like one giant-ass step back. So much for claiming his own destiny, or whatever bullshit he had been chanting to convince himself that this was all a good idea.

"Would you like another drink," Chris asked, cutting obliviously into Kurt's thoughts.

Kurt nodded.

Yeah.

He was definitely going to need a drink.


	7. Chapter 7

**Story: The Campaign Man**

_Author: Queeny C_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and Ryan Murphy is my God. _

_A/N: I know, I know. Where the hell have I been, right? So, without delving too far into my shit load of excuses, let me just sum it up in one horrible run-on sentence: I had to move since my gf is no longer helping with rent, my lying, stealing roommate managed to NOT pay the entertainment bill and our internet got cut off for two months and then three of my employees quit at work leaving me to cover their shifts through the holiday season and on into the new year. Thanks universe. Having said all that, I promise I have not forgotten this story and hope to be back to regular updates now that my life is settling in. I know this is short, but at least its something _

**Chapter Seven: Awkward, Party of Six**

Finn was a really great brother.

Kurt was never going to argue otherwise on that front.

Even if their relationship had been shaky in the beginning, Finn had been around for Kurt through every bad thing that had followed. He'd been there when Kurt was harassed in school, when Kurt's life had been threatened, when his biggest bully had assaulted him, when his first boyfriend had broken his heart and all through that entire _year_ of awful that neither of them liked to talk about.

So, yeah, Finn was amazing.

But Kurt was still regretting telling Finn anything about his current romantic drama. Especially since the taller man had yet to let the conversation go, even as the two of them made their way into _Christoff's_ to start setting up for the banquet that night.

"So, wait, you've got a crush on your boss—"

"Finn," Kurt squeaked indignantly. "I didn't tell you so that you could broadcast it to the world!"

"Sorry," Finn sighed in an exaggeratedly lowered voice. "I'm just confused. If you like this Blaine dude, why are you dating the cook?"

"_Chef_, Finn," Kurt corrected, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. "Chris has a culinary degree and runs his own restaurant. And I'm not…dating him… per se."

"Dude," Finn laughed, looping an arm around Kurt's shoulders affectionately, "You're blushing."

"I hate you."

"Then why am I here on my day off helping you decorate for a party I had to beg to be invited to?"

Kurt was already asking himself the same question. "Because I'm your brother. Besides, it isn't a _party_, Finnegan, it's a fundraiser banquet. I didn't invite you because I figured you'd be bored out of your mind."

"Without a doubt," Finn shrugged in agreement. "But you've put a lot of work into this. It'd be unsupportive of me not to come."

Kurt swallowed the 'aw' bubbling in his throat and instead just cast his brother a grateful glance. Then he looked around the only half-decorated dining area and realized how much work was still to be done.

The endearing moment was quickly forgotten.

"Come on," he told his brother. "I need you to lift all the heavy boxes."

Finn rolled his eyes but followed obediently.

For two blissful hours, Kurt and Finn worked in silent and somehow productive tandem. Kurt had brought along his iPod and speakers and started up the playlist he'd created years ago—and updated frequently—of songs both he and Finn could agree on (He'd never admit to just how many Journey songs had ended up on there for nostalgia's sake).

The peace was shattered however by the shrill squeal of, "Kurt," as Rachel came running into the restaurant with her arms loaded down with bags of what appeared to be children's birthday party streamers and decorations. Rachel frowned as she looked around. "I brought all this stuff to help decorate," she sighed, "but this place already looks incredible."

Kurt sent a silent thanks to the teacup-dwelling dwarf in the sky that he wasn't going to have to break Rachel's well-meaning heart. He gently pried the bags of decorations from her hands with the assurance of, "It was sweet of you to try. We'll just set these out of the way and save them for later." _When I introduce them to an incinerator_, he thought.

As it was, Rachel had been correct. The table settings Kurt had overseen were tastefully done in shades of blue and prominent banners had been placed on either side of the restaurant's small wooden stage (usually used for a string quartet but tonight to belong to Mercedes Jones).

Rachel sighed again in dismay even as Finn came up behind her and wrapped her in a hug. "So what do you want me to do?"

"You could start by getting your skinny asses over here and worshiping the ground I walk on! I haven't seen you guys in months!"

Kurt spun on his heel and he and Rachel let out perfectly in sync (and perfectly harmonized, Finn would remark later) squeals of delight. Mercedes Jones stood in the doorway of _Christoff's_ in a gorgeous slinky black number and killer stilettos. There was a bag at her feet, a pair of sunglasses on her head and a wide smile across her face.

"Mercedes," Kurt shouted and, for just a second, he was sixteen again as he rushed across the dining room and threw himself into his friend's arms with an excited laugh. "Gaga, you look _amazing_!"

"Don't sound so surprised, Baby," Mercedes laughed before disentangling herself from Kurt and pulling Rachel into a hug next. "And look at you Mr. Campaign Manager. I'm so proud," she teased, pinching Kurt's cheek playfully.

"I know," Rachel sighed fondly. "It's like he's all grown up!"

"Uh, I'm older than both of you," Kurt reminded them with a roll of his eyes.

"You'll always be a baby to me, White Boy," Mercedes teased affectionately. "I feel like I raised you."

"Hey, I helped," Finn pouted, pushing his way into the tight circle Kurt and his favorite women had formed.

"Yes Finn," Mercedes nodded indulgently, now pulling the towering man into a warm embrace, "You did an excellent job."

Rachel squealed again. "This feels like a Glee reunion," she sighed sappily.

"Rach, you see me and Finn, like, everyday!"

"But not with Mercedes here!"

"That's right," Mercedes nodded with a wide grin. "I bring the party, Baby." This earned appreciative laughs from everyone.

"Kurt," A worried voice sounded from behind the reunited New Directions. They all turned as Chris stepped into the dining room with raised, curious eyebrows. "Oh, sorry. I thought I heard screaming."

Kurt felt himself blush violently, but his friends just continued to laugh. "Oh, you did," Mercedes said helpfully. "Kurt's got quite the range when he's excited."

"Mercedes!"

Chris laughed and nodded his understanding. It was then that Kurt realized he was being rude and should probably make introductions.

"Oh, uh, Chris, this is my brother Finn, soon-to-be-sister-in-law, Rachel and oldest friend, Mercedes."

"Pleasure to meet you all," Chris nodded politely. "I don't think I've ever had so many talented people in my restaurant at once."

"Oh, I like him," Mercedes replied with an exaggerated wink.

"Don't bother," Finn said in what Kurt was sure he thought was a helpful manner, "He's Team Kurt."

"Seriously," Mercedes asked with a huff. She turned 'you've got explaining to do' eyes onto her friend.

"Oh my God, I hate you all."

"Hey Kurt," Blaine called then, stepping up behind Chris.

_Awkward, party of six,_ Kurt thought miserably to himself as his cheeks flamed red and he faced his boss who was looking around the room (and the crowd of people occupying it) curiously. "I was going to ask if you needed help with anything but it looks like you brought enough helping hands on your own."

Kurt grimaced. "Yes, uh…I think we've got it under control."

Blaine nodded. "In that case, I'm headed into the office. Forgot my speech notes. Anything you need before I come back?"

"No! I mean…no. Thanks though, Blaine."

He pointedly ignored the raised eyebrows from Mercedes and Chris and the smirk that Rachel and Finn shared.

"I'll see you in a few hours then."

"Yep," Kurt nodded ridiculously until Blaine's back had disappeared through the door. He turned back to his group of friends and groaned internally.

_Awkward, awkward, very awkward. _

**~K~B~**

This was all Stanley's fault.

Well, technically, it was Blaine's fault. At least, it was Blaine's campaign's fault. Because if the campaign hadn't needed money, Kurt wouldn't have had to set up this stupid banquet and he never would've met Chris and Blaine would never have had to see them together at a bar and then again the next morning chatting it up with Kurt's friends and family.

Ugh.

But then, the campaign had also brought Kurt into Blaine's life.

So it couldn't be the campaign's fault (and by extension Blaine's).

So no, this was all on Stanley and his pushing Kurt to hold a banquet as cost-effectively as possible. And maybe, just maybe, it was Kurt's fault for being so damn attractive that he couldn't even plan a party without having the venue owner fall for him.

But Blaine wasn't willing to blame this on Kurt either.

After all, it wasn't like Chris had been Kurt's first boyfriend. Surely with a face like his, a body like his, a voice like his…well, Blaine tried not to think of what he'd like to do to Kurt if they'd met under any other circumstances, but he had a pretty good idea of what others had gotten to do in the past.

These circular and utterly unhelpful thoughts (he really ought to have been focusing on his speech for the night and what he planned to say when someone inevitably brought up the whole Daniel-fiasco) followed Blaine to the office and all the way back to the restaurant several hours later.  
>When he stepped into the dining area the second time, it was like the place had been transformed.<p>

"Damn," Wes said, coming up behind Blaine and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Is there anything Kurt isn't good at?"

Blaine turned to find Kurt and Chris in a friendly discussion, Kurt's hands moving wildly while he explained something (presumably about the night's meal considering the way he kept gesturing to the table). "Being single, apparently," Blaine couldn't quite stop himself from grumbling. Wes raised an eyebrow, but to his credit refrained from commenting or scolding.

"Buck up, Mr. Anderson," he said instead, bracingly. "The piranhas—I mean paparazzi—have arrived which means the guests are already lined up outside. Time to put on that show face I've been envious of since high school and sell this shit. It'd be a shame to put all Hummel's hard work to waste."

Blaine nodded and pasted on his best smile as Kathryn Lewis, an activist and youngest heir to a hotel franchise, approached on quick, heeled feet with a wide grin. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
